


The Shrunken Turtleneck

by BlackKatJinx



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Castleship is still around, Ever wonder what happened to Lance's Blue Turtleneck from that one art?, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Some good quality Pidge and Lance bonding, Takes place anytime before season 6, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 02:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15547377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackKatJinx/pseuds/BlackKatJinx
Summary: “Is that my turtleneck?” Lance asks after a moment.His turtleneck… what? Oh. Oh! Pidge sits a little straighter, feeling much more awake now. She looks down at the blue turtleneck she is wearing, reflexively ducking her chin under the high collar.“Uh, yeah. It is.” She mutters.





	The Shrunken Turtleneck

**Author's Note:**

> We've all seen that concept art of Lance and his turtleneck. But what happened to it? *Will Smith poses at the fic* This? Maybe.  
> This is also from a writing prompt: A Shrunken Sweater, chosen by a friend. I intended to draw it, but the words came easier than the lines.

The kitchen was mostly empty when Pidge finally wanders in. Only Lance is still there, sitting at the island counter with an almost empty bowl in one hand and a spork in the other.

“Morning Pidge!” He says with a smile and a small wave of his spork. Or rather: he chirps. Pidge is most definitely positive that he chirped, considering how happy he seems to be.

She manages only a grumble in response and goes about making her own breakfast, digging out a cup and filling it with some juice. She then fills a bowl with food goo and returns to the island counter, setting both of them down with a clatter. She plants herself on a stool, scratching at her head and yawning wide enough for her jaw to give an audible crack.

“Is that my turtleneck?” Lance asks after a moment.

Pidge startles, looking at him; He had been so quiet after his initial greeting she hadn't realized he was still there. She frowns at the question. His turtleneck… what? Oh.

_Oh!_

Pidge sits a little straighter, feeling much more awake now. She looks down at the blue turtleneck she is wearing, reflexively ducking her chin under the high collar. The workshop had been a little chilly last night and she had decided to wear it. Given she'd just woke up after falling asleep there, Pidge had forgotten she was _still_ wearing it.

She’d forgot, too, that Lance was the one who gave it to her, all the way back when they were still at the Garrison. Hard to believe that had been only months ago instead of the _years_ it felt like. She could still remember when he’d showed up at her door, unannounced of course, one afternoon. Thankfully he had knocked instead of just barging in.

Pidge hadn’t known what to think when Lance simply dropped the folded piece of blue fabric on her desk, effectively burying the homework she’d been working on.

“It is yours, if you want it.” He said, arms folded almost defensively across his chest.

Pidge rolled her chair back and unraveled the fabric, letting it hang over her lap. It was… a turtleneck. One that was small enough that it should fit her comfortably, if a little loosely.

“Why are you giving me a sweater?” She asked, perplexed. It wasn’t her birthday, Katie’s or Pidge’s. And even if it had been, the teen was confident in the fact that she’d never told her classmates. Let alone Lance.

“Because some _jerk_ threw it in the dryer, on the wrong setting and it shrank.” He grumbled. She glanced at him over her glasses but his eyes were focused on the shirt in her hands. His face was pinched, clearly upset, and there was something else there that she couldn’t place. “I can’t wear it anymore. It looks like it’d be small enough to fit you, so rather than throw it out-” He cuts off with a small shrug and flaps a hand.

“Oh uh…” Pidge trailed off. What could she say to that? It wasn’t like she had a reason to wear it. She couldn’t fathom why Lance even _had_ the turtleneck to begin with. The Garrison wasn't exactly in a location that got a lot of, if any, cold weather.

She must have stayed quiet for too long because Lance sighed and reached for the sweater. “If you don’t want it…” He started.

Pidge kicks her feet off the ground, spinning the chair away from him and hugging the turtleneck to her chest. “No! I mean- Yes! I want it. Thank you.”

Lance blinks, eyes widening briefly before letting his hand drop. “Uh yeah. No problem.” He paused, giving her and the shirt one final look before turning towards the door.

Pidge shifts in her seat as the memory fades, glancing at Lance. His expression is blank, almost carefully so, and she isn't sure what to think about that.

“Uh, yeah. It is.” She mutters. Picking up her cup she takes a lengthy drink, trying to ignore the way Lance was watching her. She could feel her face burning under the scrutiny. “Why? You did give it to me to wear, didn’t you?”

Lance suddenly jostles himself out of his staring. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.” He says, shoulders hunching as he jabs his spork into his food goo then stuffs it into his mouth. It wasn’t until after he swallowed that his shoulders finally drop and a sigh escapes him.

“I am just surprised you kept it.” His voice was soft. He is looking at her again, almost wistfully this time.

Pidge tilts her head at him, nose scrunching up. “Of course I did. It was a gift wasn’t it?” She says.

Lance laughs, a little breathlessly. “Yeah, it was.” He smiles, leaning against the counter. “My mother actually gave it to me as a present. ‘The Garrison may be in a desert, but that didn’t mean it won’t get cold at night,’ She said.”

Pidge tenses and digs her fingers into the hem of her sleeves, pulling at the fabric a little. It made sense. The turtleneck wasn’t heavy like the ones made for winter. It was lighter and more breathable. Good enough for a cool, chilly night. It was also the only reason the turtleneck had even made it to space in the first place. All because she had put it into her backpack with the rest of her stuff that night, in case it really did get cold while she was on the roof.

But the fact it was a gift from his mother… She hadn't known _that_. Pidge is _really_ glad she had decided to keep it now.

Lance had returned to eating his goo during her musing, evidently done with the conversation, so Pidge turns her attention to her juice, sipping at the tangy beverage. The quiet that settles over them isn’t exactly oppressive, but it isn’t comfortable either.

Eventually Lance finishes his bowl and stands. As he passes her on his way to the sink, however, he pauses. Pidge blinks when his hand finds it way onto her head and ruffles her hair roughly.

“Hey!” She barks, only there is very little heat behind the words. Especially since Lance laughs the whole time.

“Thank you Pidge. For keeping the turtleneck.” He says, his expression fond as he looks down at her.

Pidge huffs, shaking his hand free from her hair. She then twists in her seat and throws her arms around his waist in a hug before he could go very far.

“I didn’t know it was a gift from your mother.” She mumbles into his shirt.

She can’t see his face, but she does feel when his arm wraps around her shoulders in a small hug. They sit like that for a few ticks before Pidge finally pushes him away and turns back to her breakfast. “Now shoo. Let me enjoy the rest of my breakfast in peace.”

“Aye aye, Pidgeon.” Lance says with a grin, giving her hair one last ruffle and darting out of the room to avoid her arm when she swings at him.


End file.
